


the best souls are the ones with teeth

by PitViperOfDoom



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Ficlet Collection, Gen, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Playing around with both universes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-27 08:20:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21389032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PitViperOfDoom/pseuds/PitViperOfDoom
Summary: A collection of stories about attorneys, daemons, and maybe even a witch or two.
Relationships: Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth/Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright
Comments: 30
Kudos: 312





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I just recently got into this fandom thanks to Game Grumps, and as I often do when entering a new fandom, I made a daemons AU.
> 
> Then I caved and wrote some fic for it.
> 
> I won't promise much in the way of plot, I'll mostly just be writing scenes that catch my fancy and exploring this funny little AU I made. Hope you all like it!

They’ve barely made it back out into the defendant’s lobby when Larry’s dӕmon screams and tries to tackle Phoenix’s.

Luckily, Dawn’s used to this kind of thing, and goats aren’t really built for the kind of tackling that Artemisia was attempting. She manages to get in an awkward, floppy headbutt before Dawn sort of sighs and starts circling around her. It’ll take a second, but if the usual patterns hold true, Dawn will end up sitting on her to get her to calm down. That’s usually what’s worked in the past.

“That was a close one!” Mia says cheerfully, drawing Phoenix’s attention away from the dӕmons’ antics. “I was almost ready to kiss that Not Guilty verdict goodbye.”

Phoenix winces in embarrassment. “Oh, come on…”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, boss,” Dawn says dryly, while Artemisia performs a complicated parkour maneuver off her shoulder. The piteous bleating and clip-clop of goat hooves are almost deafening with the lobby’s acoustics.

From Mia’s shoulder, Archimedes laughs. “She’s joking,” he says, ignoring Mia’s look of betrayal. “She’s joking, don’t worry. We knew you had it handled.”

Phoenix relaxes. “Oh, well, I guess—”

“I mean you had to have Payne handled,” Arc goes on. “If you can’t trounce the Rookie Killer, there’s no hope for you.”

“Thank… you?” Phoenix tries.

“Why is it so hard to tell a compliment from a criticism with them?” Dawn wonders, just loud enough to be heard. Mia covers her mouth elegantly against her laughter, but the pigeon dӕmon on her shoulder has no such reservations. Before Phoenix can think of a follow-up to that, Larry falls upon him in hysterics.

“Nick! Nick, what am I gonna _do_? My Cindy-windy’s gone, how is life worth living?”

“Larry, she was a—oh, never mind,” Dawn mutters.

It takes a minute, and some digging through the court record, but eventually Dawn sits on Artie until she stops wiggling, and Phoenix assuages Larry’s agony over whether or not his late ex-girlfriend loved him. Dawn lets Artie up off the floor and takes the last-minute headbutt to the chin like a champ, and Larry and his dӕmon finally leave. They’re definitely not getting paid for any of this.

Dawn shakes the rest of the confetti out of her fur and returns to Phoenix’s side, tail wagging like a banner. “Well, that could’ve gone a lot worse.”

“Oh, we’ve had more frustrating clients before, believe me,” Mia says, and something about her pointed smile tells Phoenix exactly which client she’s talking about. Dawn’s tail stops wagging for a moment.

“Hey, don’t knock Larry,” Phoenix retorts. “He’s part of the reason why I became a lawyer in the first place.”

Mia’s eyes widen in surprise. “My, you’ll have to tell us that story sometime,” she says. “Harry Butz, the inspiration for your legal career.”

Phoenix exchanges a glance with his dӕmon. “Well…”

“A small part,” Dawn amends. “About thirty percent of the reason, tops.”

It’s the part that’s the easiest to explain, anyway. Mia has never been shy about her opinion of cutthroat prosecutors, so how is he supposed to tell her—

_how wrong it was, seeing pictures of the so-called Demon Prosecutor in news and magazines, _ _tired and angry and weighed down with misery that nobody else seems to notice, with a _ _d_ _ӕ_ _mon _ _that’_ _s said to show_ _ her claws _ _to_ _ anyone who _ _moves_ _ too close—_

“Phoenix?” Mia’s voice brings him back to the present. “Still with us?”

“Yeah, yeah, just… thinking about things,” he says. “You’re right, I’ll have to… tell you about that.”

“Later this evening, maybe,” she says. “Why don’t we get together for dinner? You did just win your first trial, after all. I think that’s a good reason to celebrate.”

Dawn’s drooping tail springs up again and wags, like she can be any more obvious.

“Yeah, sure, sounds good,” Phoenix agrees, praying that his dӕmon won’t start prancing like she’s actually begging for a treat. Mia notices, obviously, and grins in spite of his best efforts to salvage his dignity. Sometimes there are disadvantages to having your soul walk around in the form of a fluffy white dog the size of a miniature horse.

“Phoenix?” she says.

“Yeah, Chief?”

Her amused grin softens to a more genuine smile. “Archimedes meant what he said before.”

“We really did know you could do it,” says Arc.

“To be honest, we’ve known you’d do well since you first told us you were changing your major,” Mia tells him.

Dawn’s tail wags faster. “Okay, now I know you’re fibbing,” Phoenix says. “Twenty-year-old me was an _airhead_.”

“_Was_, he says,” Mia’s dӕmon remarks.

“Archimedes,” Mia chides him. “We’re not kidding, Phoenix. It’s all in your dӕmon.”

Phoenix blinks, then exchanges another look with Dawn. “Me?” Dawn asks. “But… I was the same, back then. It’s not like…” Her voice catches. “It’s not like I noticed anything wrong with Dollie and Cassius and—”

“You believed in them,” Arc says gently. “That’s one of the most important parts of being a good defense attorney: trusting your instincts and believing in your client’s innocence.” He cocks his head to one side. “But that’s not what we’re talking about. It’s the very shape you’re in, Dawn.”

“A… dog?” Phoenix frowns. “Man, that’s not what the kids in middle school said.”

“_Meh-meh-meh, Phoenix has a dog __d__ӕ__mon, __he’s gonna be a bellboy when he grows up__,_” Dawn mutters mockingly.

“Seriously, Rudy Bruzer used to throw his backpack at me and tell me to carry it for him. That thing was _heavy_.” Phoenix stops before he gets too deep in the teen angst of years past. “Anyway, everybody says dog dӕmons are the submissive, authority-following type, so I don’t really see your point.”

“Well, you didn’t look very submissive at the defense bench just now,” Mia points out. “And besides, I’m not talking about her being a dog. I’m talking about the kind of dog she is.” She raises an eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell me you never looked it up.”

“We never really thought about it,” Dawn admits. “I guess I kind of look like a Pyrenees?”

“Precisely.” Arc flutters down from Mia’s shoulder and lands on Dawn’s back. “A Great Pyrenees. That’s a breed from the Pyrenees Mountains between France and Spain. A guardian breed, to be exact.”

Dawn twists her head around to look at him. “So now I’m a guard dog? What does that have to do with being a lawyer?”

“Not a guard dog,” Mia says, keeping her eyes on Phoenix. “A _guardian_. They were bred to watch over herds and flocks in the mountains.” She tilts her head with a smile. “You have the soul of a protector, Phoenix.”

“Gentle with the lambs and fierce against the wolves,” Archimedes adds. “I can’t think of a better dӕmon for someone who defends the innocent.”

“Oh,” Phoenix says faintly. Mia’s nice enough to pretend not to notice how choked up he is. After all the dumb-dog-go-fetch comments he’s heard in every school he’s ever attended, this is the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about Dawn’s shape.

* * *

Hours later, he kneels on the floor of Mia’s office, choking back tears as he searches her corpse for clues. Archimedes is gone, dissolved into Dust the moment Mia’s heart stopped beating. Dawn noses her cold hand; it’s safe for his dӕmon to touch her now that she’s dead.

_You were wrong, Chief,_ he thinks, staring blankly at the bloody name scrawled on the back of a department store receipt. _I couldn’t even protect you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dӕmons introduced in this chapter:
> 
> Dawn. Phoenix Wright's dӕmon. A female Great Pyrenees dog.  
Artemisia. Larry Butz's dӕmon. A female domestic goat.  
Archimedes. Mia Fey's dӕmon. A male pigeon.


	2. Chapter 2

On the other side of the glass, Maya Fey lifts her head for the first time since Phoenix has met her. Confusion and hope swim in her eyes.

“You’ll defend me? Are you sure?”

“Not like you have a lot of options,” Dawn mutters at his side, too quietly for Maya to hear.

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t sure,” Phoenix says firmly.

Maya’s eyes shine with tears. “But… why? You don’t even know me. You walked into that room and saw me with my sister’s body. For all you know, I did kill her, so why—”

“Of course you didn’t kill her,” Phoenix says sharply. “You’re right, I did see you. I saw you crying over her. I saw how shocked and frightened you were to see her like that.” Across from him, Maya’s tears fall. “I know you didn’t hurt her, and that means someone else did. And if you go down for this, then they’ll get away with it, and I can’t let that happen.”

Maya lifts her chin further. The dӕmon in her lap finally stirs and stands up straighter. It’s a raven, and Maya’s grief shows through in its dull eyes and poorly groomed feathers. “All right,” Maya says, hands curling into fists. “Then I’m in your hands. Ask me anything, and I’ll tell you whatever I can.”

“Ask her what’s with that weird get-up,” Dawn mutters to him. “It’s been bugging me since last night.”

Phoenix is about to hush her when Maya cocks her head. “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Was your dӕmon asking about my clothes?”

“Don’t mind her,” he says, wincing. “We were just curious, but we didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay.” Maya smiles ruefully. “I get that question a lot, from humans.”

“Humans?” Phoenix echoes.

“Yes.” Maya gestures down at her loose, eastern-style robes, and the oddly-shaped pendant around her neck. “This is the traditional garb of my clan. The Kurain witches originated from eastern Asia, but a few centuries ago we migrated across the ocean and settled in new territory on the west coast of North America. I mean… it wasn’t America _yet_ back then, but… you get the idea.”

“You’re a witch?” Phoenix’s mouth falls open. “Wait—if Mia was your sister… was she a witch, too?”

“Of course.” Maya smiles sadly. “All daughters are witches, and all sons are human. That’s… how it works.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute.” Phoenix shakes his head. “I remember studying this in law school. If you’re a witch and Mia was a witch, then how are they holding you for Mia’s murder? I thought witches handle their own justice, no matter where the crime is committed. You’re supposed to have diplomatic immunity or something.”

Maya winces. “It’s… complicated. See, Mia left home years ago, and one of the first things she did was apply for citizenship here. It’s… not really common for a witch to do that, but she wanted to study and practice law, and citizenship made it easier. But now…”

“As a US citizen, Mia was legally a human being,” Phoenix finishes for her. “Which gives the state the authority to put you on trial for her murder.”

Maya nods. “Right. I’m sure she didn’t mean for that to happen, but…”

Dawn hops up, putting her paws on the little shelf below the window so that she can see better. “Why did Mia want to become a lawyer in the first place?” she asks. “I mean, we never would’ve guessed she was a witch because… well, witches don’t tend to care much about human affairs. Since they—er, you live so long, and everything.”

At first, Maya doesn’t answer. Then, wriggling out of her arms, her raven dӕmon flutters up to perch by the window.

“There was an… incident, fifteen years ago,” he says.

Dawn lowers her head so that they’re on equal eye level. “What kind of incident?”

“A murder,” the raven replies. “There was an uproar over it at the time, and it brought human law officers to the Kurain clan. They were out of leads, so they asked for magical aid.”

“And… your clan agreed?” Phoenix asks.

“There’s an ability,” Maya speaks up suddenly. “It’s very rare, even among witches. Only certain family lines have it: the ability to channel the dead. Our mother had it. My sister had it.” She touches the pendant around her neck. “I was born with it, too. Our mother used it to contact the victim. A human was arrested—the only person who could have committed the murder—but he was acquitted. And…” Her voice caught.

“Mother’s involvement was kept secret,” her dӕmon continued. “It couldn’t get out that witches had interfered in a humans’ criminal investigation. But a man… found out. He exposed it to the world, and it spread like a wildfire. Everyone knew that she helped them, and that she was _wrong_.”

“She had to give up her place as clan queen,” Maya says quietly.

Phoenix almost chokes on the air he’s breathing, at the same time as Dawn splutters, “Your mom was a _queen_—”

“She left the clan, not long after that. No one knows where she went. And years later, Mia left, too.” Maya takes a deep breath. “She wanted to find out who hurt our mother like that. And the only way she knew how was to play by human rules for a while.”

“That seems… drastic,” says Dawn.

“She was our _mother_,” Maya says sharply. “And that man—that _stranger_ hurt her. Don’t you understand? There was a reason they kept her help a secret. The Kurain clan almost lost all of its alliances. The only reason we aren’t pariahs among our sister clans is that my mother abdicated and exiled herself. He put _all of us_ in danger when he did that to her.” Her tearstained eyes harden with anger. “Mia couldn’t find another way. She had to find evidence so he could be put on trial among humans, and make sure he was found guilty. And that way—”

“He’d be subject to a witch’s justice,” Phoenix says faintly.

That’s a big part of diplomacy with witches. If a human commits a crime against a witch, the humans are the ones who hold the trial, but the witches get to decide the punishment on a guilty verdict.

It’s usually death. Witches don’t screw around.

Wait, _death. Of course!_

In an instant, Phoenix has a brainwave. “Wait a minute—Ms. Fey, _you’re_ a witch. And you said you have this ability too, right? This magic spirit-channeling? So you could contact Mia’s spirit!”

Maya wilts. “I… no. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“But—”

“We’re still learning magic,” her dӕmon says sadly. “It takes a lot of power to call a spirit back, and we just… We aren’t as strong as Mia was.”

“Zech and I aren’t even separated yet,” Maya says softly, stroking his wing. “We were supposed to perform the ritual this year. Mia said—” Her voice breaks again. “Mia said she and Archimedes would come to the North with us.”

Phoenix’s heart sinks, both with sympathy and with disappointment. Of course it couldn’t be that easy to find the murderer and give this poor girl closure.

“Okay,” he says. “That’s alright. We’ll just have to do this the human way. I’ll take it from here, okay? I’ll figure this out.”

Maya nods, then says, “White.”

“What?”

“The man who hurt our mother. I don’t know his full name, but my sister told me that much. His name is White. I know it’s not much, but maybe it’s a place to start.”

Phoenix sighs. This is so much bigger than he thought it would be. “Okay. Thanks, Ms. Fey. You’ve given me… a whole lot, actually.”

Maya smiles. “Whatever it takes to avenge my sister,” she says.

“…Okay.”

“We’re more of a justice guy than a revenge guy, but to each their own,” Dawn says.

“It’s our way,” Maya answers. “We prefer to put things to rest permanently.”

Dawn is about to get off the shelf, but hesitates. “Speaking of that… something’s bugging me. And maybe it’s not relevant, but it’s… well, you know, it’s _bugging_ me.”

“What is it?” Maya asks.

“Well, everybody knows witches keep to themselves,” Dawn says. “They live so long that countries change all the time, they don’t care about money because money changes too, so… how did those detectives convince your mom to help them?”

Maya blinks. “Oh, that. Well, it’s true that we don’t care for possessions and we don’t have currency, but we do trade in favors.”

“So the police owe your clan a favor?” Phoenix asks.

“No, the favor was already paid, in a way.” Maya pauses. “I don’t know a lot about this, because I’m only one hundred and seventy and our aunt always said I should be focused on training instead of poking my nose in politics—”

“Only a hundred and seventy,” Phoenix says weakly.

“But the murder didn’t just cause a stir among humans,” Maya says. “The victim had friends in the witch clans, including my own.” She purses her lips, stroking her dӕmon again. “You have to understand, we value our allies and friends. Especially human ones, since we already have so little time with them. We don’t take their deaths lightly.”

“So the witches had a real stake in finding the killer,” Dawn mutters. “It wasn’t just a random favor.”

“Right,” Maya replies. “He was a friend to some of us. I even heard that a witch from another clan had a child by him. It was a son, though, so he would have been human.” She pauses. “I was focused on training when this happened, so I don’t know any details. I’m not sure if it helps.”

“It helps a lot,” Phoenix assures her, not altogether certain that it does. “It’s better than going into this blind.”

“Speaking of which, we’d better get going,” Dawn says, finally hopping down. “We’re burning daylight, and we still have to weasel evidence out of that detective.”

Phoenix nods. “Okay. Sit tight, Ms. Fey. We’ll take it from here.”

For a moment, Maya Fey locks eyes with him. “Thank you, Mr. Wright,” she says, with a solemness that looks almost eerie on a face that looks no older than seventeen. The ragged black raven perched beside her only enhances the effect. “I won’t forget what you’ve done for me, and my sister.”

Phoenix can’t think of a response yet, because so far he hasn’t done much besides ask a bunch of questions and make a promise that he’s not completely sure he can keep. So he nods stiffly, and walks away.

“That was eerie,” Dawn remarks as they leave the detention center.

“_Yeah_.”

“And, you do realize—”

“What?”

“Witches don’t do money,” she points out. “We’re not getting paid for this one, either.”

“I’m… not completely sure that’s true,” Phoenix says. “Witches value favors and allies, remember? Something tells me that if we pull this off, we’ll be repaid… somehow. With a favor. From an almost two-hundred-year-old witch.” He took a deep breath. “The important thing is, she’s Mia’s sister, and that’s all the reason we need. Right?”

“Right.” Dawn squares her shoulders and picks up the pace, tail held high like a banner. “Well then… let’s go find ourselves a wolf.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Demons introduced in this chapter:
> 
> Zechariah. Maya Fey's dӕmon. A male raven.


	3. Chapter 3

“You look nervous,” Maya remarks in the defendant’s lobby. “Should I be nervous, too?”

“What, nervous? Nah. I’ve got this handled.” It’s a little bit honest and a little bit not; he has a few angles he can maybe work, depending on how—how the prosecution decides to play things. He’s a little less blind than he was going into Larry’s trial. Things can only improve from here.

Never mind that he had Mia with him then, standing there behind the bench as a lifeline. Never mind that he has no assistance, no co-council, no one but his dӕmon at his side, and she’s just as uncertain as he is. Never mind the prosecutor that they’re up against.

It feels as if his heart dips into his stomach. Miles. They’re going to see Miles and—

_Edgeworth,_ he corrects himself. _Prosecutor Edgeworth. And if no one knows we’ve met, then I shouldn’t know his __d__ӕ__mon’__s name._

When the time comes, they file into the courtroom. Maya and her dӕmon—Zechariah, as they’ve learned—take their place near the bailiff. Phoenix focuses on the defense’s bench and nothing else until he finally reaches it. Once he’s there and there’s no more excuse not to, he turns—

He’s imagined this day for four years now, ever since he made the jump to law school. It’s surreal to finally be here, and so soon. He's still fresh out of the bar exam, the ink is barely dry on his diploma, and there is Miles Edgeworth, the Demon Prosecutor, looking at him coolly from the opposite end of the courtroom.

His old friend turns away to organize a few papers, probably documented evidence, and Phoenix’s eyes are drawn to his dӕmon instead. The last time he saw her, she was still changing shape.

Pictures in articles don’t do her justice. She looks like a cat in all of them, just a normal house cat at Miles—at Edgeworth’s feet. But now, Phoenix looks at her and genuinely can’t tell.

Seated on the smooth wooden surface, Edgeworth’s dӕmon watches Phoenix with cool, almost regal disdain. He wonders if she’s some kind of wild cat from Africa or South America, because she’s tall and long-bodied with golden spotted fur, like something that stepped off the savannah and into the courtroom. Phoenix feels like he’s taking a stare-down from a sphinx.

Beside him, Dawn’s stance is a bit clumsier. She’s too short to see over the bench comfortably but too big to sit on it the way Edgeworth’s dӕmon is doing, so instead she’s on her hind legs with her paws up on the bench so that she can watch the proceedings from a decent angle. It probably looks ridiculous to the people in the gallery behind them, but Phoenix can’t bring himself to care about their opinion right now.

He sees when their dӕmons’ eyes meet, even feels the jolt through his bond with Dawn. The held gaze only lasts a moment before Edgeworth’s dӕmon looks away. It’s not submission; Phoenix follows her gaze straight to where Maya Fey is standing.

Phoenix is almost distracted enough to miss the judge’s words, but Edgeworth jars him from his thoughts with nothing but his voice. “The prosecution is ready, Your Honor.” His dӕmon watches Maya Fey and her raven like she’s ready to pounce.

He swallows hard, and curls his fingers into Dawn’s fur.

“The defense is ready, Your Honor.”

(He’s not.)

* * *

Phoenix is half in a daze when he staggers out of the courtroom. There was no last-minute catch that could prove Maya’s innocence in a day, like he did for Larry. At the very least he won her a reprieve, and himself h one extra day to find more evidence. For now, they have a few minutes in the defendant’s lobby before Maya is taken back to detention. She watches him with stars in her eyes, and if he didn’t know better he would easily mistake her for a normal teenager.

“You were _incredible_,” she says. “Is this what your courts are always like? Mia explained how they worked, and she said it was exciting sometimes, but that—it was like a battle, but with words thrown instead of spells and arrows!”

“It—I wasn’t—” Phoenix splutters. Next to him, Dawn prances a little from foot to foot at the praise. “I mean! I did tell you I’d prove your innocence. Which I… sort of haven’t done yet. I couldn’t get enough information in time.”

She grins at him, dimpling. “Is that supposed to impress me less? You went into it unarmed and you still held your own! Is there anything more I can do to help you?”

“Not unless you’ve remembered anything else?”

Her enthusiasm deflates, just a little. “No,” she admits. “And I’m trying, believe me! I’ve been going over everything from even two weeks back, but I can’t think of anything that might help. Mia was… secretive. I got the feeling that she didn’t want me too closely involved in what she was doing. Sometimes she would ask me to hold things for her, like she was going to do with that clock. But she hardly ever told me why.”

She looks so dejected that Phoenix regrets asking. “It’s alright,” he assures her. “I have some leads. One or two, but they’re good. Worst case scenario, I can delay sentencing one more day. But Edgeworth is… tough.” Frustration bubbles up, threatening to overflow. “He’s got a reputation for always getting the guilty verdict, and…”

“We weren’t expecting to face them so soon,” Dawn admits.

Zechariah shifts his weight on Maya’s shoulder and makes a soft, thoughtful noise. “She has the look of a hunter,” he says. “She never took her eyes off of us for the entire trial.”

“She—oh, you mean his dӕmon,” Phoenix says.

Maya looks thoughtful. “She had an interesting shape,” she says. “A cat, but not the kind of cat I usually see in humans. She almost looked like one of those African wildcats. A cheetah? No, she was too small for that. Maybe a serval, or a caracal?”

“Caracals don’t have spots,” says Zechariah. “And servals have shorter tails, don’t they?”

“Right, right.”

“She was a little small, too.”

Suddenly, Phoenix’s throat feels altogether too tight. A memory is dragged to the front of his mind, only two days old, of standing in this very lobby and listening to Mia talk about Dawn’s shape.

“Do you guys know a lot about dӕmons?” Dawn asks.

“Sort of.” Maya smiles again. “They’re so interesting! You can tell so much about a person by the shape of their dӕmon! And human dӕmons come in so many different types, mammals and reptiles and insects and amphibians and even _fish,_ of all things! Can you imagine having your dӕmon settle as a fish?”

“I’ve… never really thought about it?”

“Though, some people don’t seem to appreciate it when we ask questions…” Maya frowns, cheeks puffing slightly as if she’s remembering an embarrassing moment.

Phoenix is about to reply when the past crashes over him in an ice-cold wave.

It’s not just two-day-old memories anymore. For a split second he’s nine again, he’s a shy skinny fourth-grader with band-aids on his elbows, and if he looks over his shoulder he’ll see his friend standing there, he’ll see Dawn shifting shape again, tackling another dӕmon her size in rough-and-tumble play—

The moment passes, but the feeling of desperate longing stays. It’s not his, he realizes; he’s feeling it from Dawn.

A painful tug in his chest makes him turn around. His dӕmon is moving away, ears pricked toward something he can’t see as she steps toward the limits of their bond. Phoenix leaves Maya’s side and catches a handful of the fur on the scruff of his dӕmon’s neck. “Dawnie, where are you going—?”

She startles in his grip. “I—” She hesitates, looking back at him and then forward again, to the hallway that leads around to the other courtrooms. “I—she was _there_, Phoenix, I just saw her.”

“Dawn—”

“I mean, I didn’t _see_ her, but I smelled her, and—I didn’t notice in the courtroom, but Phoenix, she smells the same, it was exactly the same as before, I just know it, I’d know her anywhere—”  
“Dawnie, so what if you did?” he mutters to her. She’s still pulling slightly against his grip. “We’re still in the courthouse and she’s a prosecutor’s dӕmon, she’s probably walked all over these halls. Of course you smelled her.”

“I just…” Dawn whines plaintively. “I could’ve sworn she was there.”

It twists at his heart to hear her talk like that. She’s not saying anything he doesn’t already feel. But… “We’ll see them again tomorrow, remember? The trial’s not over. Just—hold it together, okay?”

“It’s not the same.” Dawn still watches the corridor, tail drooping down and around until the tip of it curls between her hind legs. “They’re so far away, Phoenix.”

“I know,” he says. “I know, okay? We’ll reach them. But we knew it was gonna take time. We’re ahead of schedule, if you think about it. We never thought we’d see them again this fast.”

“I wish it was faster,” his dӕmon whispers.

“Yeah,” he says. “Me too. C’mon, you’re making Maya worried.”

At this, she shakes herself and turns her back on the far hallway. She doesn’t want to, but he’s right; Maya’s watching them with a curious look on her face, like she’s trying to put together a picture and figure out if she has all the pieces at the same time.

“Sorry about that,” Phoenix says. “But anyway—this is good. I got us another day, and a few things to look into.”

Maya nods. “Mia was right,” she says.

That catches him off guard. “A-about what?”

She smiles at him, bright with hope. “You have the soul of a protector.”

* * *

“What kept you?” Miles asks, when she finally catches up to him.

“Nothing much. Just satisfying some curiosity.”

“What could you possibly be curious about?”

Her ears flick backward in annoyance. “You _know_ what.” Infuriatingly, he pretends not to know what she’s talking about. “She almost saw me.”

Miles refuses to rise to the bait. “Lovely. Perhaps their situational awareness has improved in the last however many years.”

“Fifteen,” she says, as if he doesn’t know perfectly well how many.

He sighs. “Is there a point you’re trying to make?”

“I suppose not. It’s just… odd, seeing them here.” She pauses, twitching the tip of her tail. “I mean, who would have thought?”

“Wright’s career choices have nothing to do with us, so I don’t see any point in speculating.”

To her relief, he means it. The thoughts and worries that he pushes away always end up plaguing her. At the moment, however, Phoenix Wright is a low-level concern at best.

“He employs Mia Fey’s tactics,” she says after a moment. “And not as well as she did, either. Tomorrow shouldn’t be hard to get through.”

“Obviously.” He sighs, more irritated than anything else. “The sooner this is over, the better.”

It feels so desperately wrong, seeing them there. The defense’s bench is the last place Phoenix Wright and his dӕmon belong. Perhaps, by soundly defeating them tomorrow, they’ll knock some sense into their heads.

But it makes no difference in the end. Their only goal is the guilty verdict, no matter who happens to be standing in their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dӕmons introduced in this chapter:
> 
> ???. Miles Edgeworth's dӕmon. A female cat(?).
> 
> (Bonus points to anyone who can guess!)


	4. Chapter 4

The glass between them frustrates her.

It seems to Maya that whenever they talk face to face, there is either glass between them or the threat of glass hanging over their heads. And now she is free but the glass remains, because he has taken her place in that cage.

Because Redd White has put him there.

Aunt Morgan often speaks longingly of the old days, days that Maya is too young to remember well—when a witch could slay a man for an insult and no one batted an eye, much less put her on trial for it. Normally her aunt’s bitter words make her uncomfortable, as they once nettled Mia, but now…

Now part of her wishes she could turn back time two hundred years, just so she could put an arrow in Redd White’s heart herself. For Mother, for Mia, for herself, and now for Phoenix Wright.

He puts on a brave face for her benefit, his smile bright and reassuring even though it has to hurt, with his face bruised and ugly scratchesacross his nose and one cheek. The smile and the marks are nearly enough to blind her to the darkness beneath his eyes. But even if she couldn’t read his face, his dӕmon is too big to hide.

Mother knew how to read dӕmons, including human ones, because as queen it was a useful skill. She taught Mia before she disappeared. Now she’s gone and Aunt Morgan says humans aren’t worth their time, so it was left to Mia to pass on what she knew to Maya. Dogs are expressive dӕmons, she’s found, and Wright’s Dawn looks like she’s been caged for days, not mere hours. Her head is low, her tail between her legs, and her white fur is ragged and unkempt.

“Please tell me there’s something I can do,” she says. “You need evidence, don’t you? I’m not a lawyer, or a detective, but I _am_ a witch. If there’s somewhere I need to search, or retrieve something, or question people—well, most people don’t say no to witches.”

“No,” he says firmly. “No, don’t do any of that. That’s what got me in here, and it’s what got your sister killed.” Maya swallows her anger and grief at the reminder. “Besides, I know a few things about White that I didn't before, and that’s what tomorrow will be about. He’s going to ‘prove’ me guilty by going up on the witness stand and lying. All I have to do is pick apart his lies until the whole story falls apart. Hopefully, I’ll get him to crack that way.”

Maya nods. She knows about that part of human legal customs, because Mia told her about it. It was one of her sister’s secrets to success. But it doesn’t feel like _enough_. “Isn’t there _anything_ I can do?”

“Cheer us on tomorrow, I guess,” Dawn replies.

“I can do that!” she says eagerly, almost too eagerly. Aunt Morgan would be appalled at the display. “I can stand beside you in court, can’t I? Now that I’m not a prisoner anymore?”

He blinks at her, surprised. “W-well, I guess? You could act as my co-counsel, but…”

“I’ll do it,” she says fiercely. “You stood with me when no one else would, and you sacrificed your own freedom to give me mine. This is the least I can do for you, short of killing Redd White with my own hands.”

One of the officers shifts uncomfortably, and Wright splutters. “Okay, _definitely_ don’t do that,” he says. “Because then you actually _w__ould_ be guilty of murder, and there’s not much I could do about that.”

“I won’t,” she says, offering a reassuring smile. “I don’t want to make this any harder for you. Even if I do think it would make things easier…” Wright gives her a pained look. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding. I’ll stand with you in court tomorrow, and maybe I can find a way to support you properly.”

“It’ll be fine.” Phoenix smiles again, wincing when it bothers his bruises. “Trust me.”

She wants to believe him, she really does. But Dawn’s tail is still between her legs, and the fear shines through in their eyes. There is no promise of victory, only tenuous hope.

Maya returns to her sister’s office that day, because there is little else that she can do but wait. As she approaches the building, she comes across a familiar face leaving it. In an instant she is wary, because the first thing he did upon meeting her was arrest her, and now that she’s free, she isn’t sure where that leaves them.

“Um... hello, Detective,” she says, and he startles like a big, ungainly rabbit.

“Oh! Y-yeah, hello, uh, Miss Witch! Detective Dick Gumshoe, at your service!” He stands rigidly before her, wide-eyed. At his feet, his pit bull dӕmon pants nervously and tries in vain to tuck her stubby tail.

“Can I go in?” she asks. “I won’t disturb anything, if you’re still looking…”

“By all means, Miss Witch! Don’t worry about disturbing anything, we’re finished here and the crime scene’s been cleaned up!” He shuffles out of her way, and she realizes that he’s _afraid_ of her. And why wouldn’t he be? He accused her of her sister’s murder. A little over a century ago, that would have earned him an immediate arrow through the heart.

“It’s Maya,” she says, taking pity on him. “Maya Fey. Thank you.”

“No problem, Miss Fey! Sorry for yesterday, just doing my job, very glad to see you’ve been released! Have a nice day, ma’am! _C’mon, Bobbie, let’s go._”

He and his dӕmon make a hasty retreat. Maya watches them go, then walks into her sister’s office. She sits down by the window where Mia’s body lay, and doesn’t move until her legs are stiff and achy, and the sunset casts long shadows throughout the room.

There’s a plant in the corner, still green and healthy, but the soil is dry to the touch. While she waters it, Zech flies to the desk to have a look at the computer. The distance tugs at their bond—another reminder of the ritual they haven’t completed, and that Mia won’t be there when they do.

When she’s satisfied with the plant’s condition, Maya goes to her dӕmon’s side to find the computer on and Zech scrolling through it. “What are you doing?”

“Just trying to answer an earlier question,” he tells her. “Since Phoenix already knows about Redd White, and we know that White’s dӕmon is—”

“A water moccasin,” Maya says. “Also known as a cottonmouth. I remember what Mia said.” On the screen, an encyclopedia article on the Felidae family slowly loads.

“I figured that was self-explanatory,” Zech says dryly. “So I thought it might be helpful to glean what we could from Mr. Edgeworth’s dӕmon. Starting with what she is. Maybe it'll give Phoenix an edge.”

“Makes sense.” Maya sits down in her sister’s chair, doing her very best not to think of it that way. “Let’s see what we can find.”

And they do. It doesn’t take them nearly as long as Maya feared, and she shares a triumphant look with Zech before sitting back and turning the machine off.

“Well, that’s interesting,” Zech says, feathers ruffling eagerly. “And rare, isn’t it?”

“Among humans, yes,” Maya replies, tickling his ruff feathers. “Almost unheard of, with witches.”

“Obviously.”

She’s not sure if it will help. But Mia says that court is a battle fought with information, and if Maya cannot fight with Phoenix tomorrow, then the least she can do is arm him.

* * *

Phoenix looks worse, somehow. He doesn’t look like he’s slept much, and beneath his battered smile, Maya can see that he’s scared. Dawn hardly looks any better. Her fur is still poorly groomed, her tail droops, and she presses close to her human like she’s afraid they’ll be separated.

“I’m fine,” he assures Maya when she asks. “I mean, if you think about it, however this trial ends up, I did what I said I’d do. Win or lose, you’re still innocent.”

She scowls, even though Aunt Morgan has always told her that it makes her look childish. “That’s not good enough,” she argues. “You’re innocent, too.”

“I know. And you know that, too. That’s what matters right now.”

“When this is over, everyone else will know it,” she reminds him.

She’s not sure how to describe the way his face softens at that. For the first time since yesterday, his dӕmon’s tail gives a tentative wag. “Thank you,” Dawn says softly.

“I’ve hardly done anything,” Maya answers, a little flustered.

“No, really,” Phoenix says. “You… it means a lot that you’re standing with me. With us. It really does. It’s just, we know what it’s like to have everyone against you but one person, and—” He hesitates. “I guess… thanks for being that one person, this time.”

“We haven’t done anything you didn’t do for us,” Maya reminds him.

The moment ends when Dawn goes rigid, and Zech lets out a warning croak, and Maya turns to find Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth approaching them, with his long-legged cat dӕmon stalking at his heels. This time, her hunter eyes pass over Maya and Zech to settle upon Dawn instead. Edgeworth’s eyes are likewise on Phoenix. Maya may as well not even be there.

“Wright,” Edgeworth says coolly.

“Edgeworth.”

Are lawyers always like this? If they were witches, the spells would already be flying. Human justice is a strange thing, if those who uphold it are at war with one another.

“I received a call from the Chief Prosecutor today,” Edgeworth says. He is straight-backed and composed as he speaks, his voice calm and conversational. At his feet, his dӕmon’s tail flicks from side to side, and her claws slide from their sheathes. Steady, serene, and ready to pounce.

“Did you?” Phoenix asks. He’s not quite as good at sounding calm.

“Apparently, anything that the witness says on the stand today is to be taken as the absolute truth,” Edgeworth goes on. “And the judge’s verdict will agree with it.”

“The _judge_, too?” Dawn yelps, pawing at the ground. Phoenix curls his hand into her bristling fur, either a calming gesture or a warning one.

Edgeworth ignores her. “I’ve been assured that any objection I make will be sustained, and any evidence I present will be accepted without question.”

Dawn starts forward, pulling against her human’s grip. “And you’re just _fine_ with that, are you?” she growls.

“Dawn,” Phoenix warns her, tightening his fingers in her fur.

She pulls herself free to round on him, teeth bared. “Phoenix, the entire court is in White’s pocket and he’s telling us to our _faces_, I can’t just—”

“Save it for the courtroom,” he tells her shortly. His eyes haven’t left Edgeworth.

The prosecutor finally deigns to look at Dawn, if only for a moment. “I suggest you keep better control of your dӕmon, Wright. For an outburst like that, you’d be held in contempt. Though I suppose that would save everyone else a great deal of time.”

Phoenix shifts, in such a way that it’s almost a flinch. “So you’re saying I’m guilty, then,” he says, his voice tight. “End of story?”

“I’ll do whatever is necessary to obtain a guilty verdict.”

Maya sees red.

“How _dare _you.” He may be a head and a half taller than she is, but she is almost one hundred and fifty years older, and still young enough for her grief to boil over into fury. “Just yesterday you were convinced that _I_ was guilty! Have you changed your mind so easily?” She feels Zech’s claws dig into her shoulder. “I’ll bet you don’t even have a shred of evidence that Phoenix is guilty! All you did was listen to that man’s lies and decide that your job was done!” Her eyes blaze. “Do you even care about finding my sister’s murderer, or would you rather cage another innocent and tell yourself it’s victory?”

The cat hisses at their feet, and Zech rasps out an answering challenge.

Edgeworth’s expression darkens, but he doesn’t back away. “Innocent? Can you even say for certain that he is? Or that anyone is?” His eyes return to Phoenix. “Criminals lie to escape justice, and they slip through the cracks thanks to cheap tactics like the ones I’ve seen you employ. All I can hope to do is have every defendant declared guilty.”

Phoenix holds his gaze for a moment longer, while Dawn growls and Maya swallows another furious outburst. But when Phoenix speaks, there is no anger, only sadness. “You’ve really changed, haven’t you, Edgeworth?”

In an instant, Maya’s rage plunges into ice-cold water. She looks to Phoenix in shock, and sees the answer to her question written all over his face.

It’s more than just the animosity between opposite sides of a conflict. There’s history there. As cold and aloof as Edgeworth holds himself, there is something deeply personal in this.

“…Don’t expect any special treatment,” Edgeworth says, and turns to go. His dӕmon glares balefully at them before turning to follow. The time for parley is over, it seems.

Except, it’s not.

Dawn steps forward. Her voice, laced with a growl, echoes in the lobby. “_Thea._”

Halfway across the room, the cat dӕmon freezes. Edgeworth pauses as well, turning back to urge his dӕmon onward.

“Dawn,” Phoenix murmurs, but she doesn’t listen to him. She steps forward as far as their bond will allow, standing tall with her tail held high for the first time since Maya saw them in detention yesterday.

“Come _on,_ Thea. This is wrong and you know it.”

“The only thing I know,” the cat replies calmly, “is that you are the defendant, and that makes it our job to find you guilty.”

“You’re being _played,_” Dawn growls. “I know you’re not in his pocket too, but you have to see that!”

“I don’t have to listen to this.” The cat takes another step toward her human.

“What _happened_ to you and Miles?” Dawn demands. “Don’t you see what you’re doing?”

Edgeworth's face turns thunderous. The cat’s tall ears turn back, flat against her head, and she whirls around and storms back to face Dawn with a snarl. “What did you expect, Dawn?” she spits. “That we would throw away everything we’ve worked for, for—what?” Her lip curls back scornfully. “Childish sentiment?”

Dawn’s tail drops, and her white coat bristles with fury. When she finally speaks again, her voice is harsh with disappointment. “It’s not about _sentiment,_ Alethea. I just thought you were smarter than this.”

Maya can almost hear the cat dӕmon’s claws scrape against the tile. Without another word, she whips around and stalks after Edgeworth.

Beside her, Phoenix’s hands shake. They don’t still until his dӕmon is within reach again, offering her fluffy coat to curl his fingers into.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m _sorry_, I just—”

“I know.”

“I couldn’t just—I had to say _something_—”

“I know.” Phoenix straightens up, his face set. “We’d better go in.”

This is their last chance for a private word. Maya catches him by the sleeve before he makes it to the door. “She’s a hybrid.”

He looks at her, confused. “What?”

“There’s a breed of cat called the Savannah,” she explains. “Though, it’s not really a breed in the truest sense. It’s made by crossing a domestic cat with a serval—that’s a wild cat from Africa.”

Her meaning dawns on him, and his eyes widen.

“I’m not sure if it helps,” she says. “Maybe it doesn’t. But hybrid dӕmons are said to indicate some kind of… split. A contradiction or duality in the soul.” She squeezes his arm in what she hopes is a reassuring way. “So, you could be right about him. He’s a hunter either way, but he may be more conflicted with himself than he lets on.”

The hope in his eyes is nearly enough to make her cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dӕmons introduced (properly) in this chapter:
> 
> Bobbie. Dick Gumshoe's dӕmon. A female pit bull.
> 
> Alethea. Miles Edgeworth's dӕmon. A female Savannah cat.


End file.
